


One of Those Days

by PetrichorPerfume



Series: Shenanigans [84]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam is having one of those days, Also a random dog, Brotherly Love, M/M, POV First Person, Poor Adam, Three random dogs, Winchester Style, it's totally michael's fault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:04:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2346149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PetrichorPerfume/pseuds/PetrichorPerfume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hey, everyone. Adam Milligan here. You know the days where you roll out of bed and regret it the very next instant? Yeah, it's one of those days. (And yes, I feel the need to narrate everything that happens in my life. No, it’s not weird.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of Those Days

I’m having one of those days. You know the ones where you roll out of bed even though you _really_ don’t want to and you’re _sure_ that you’re going to end up regretting it ten minutes from now? Or how about the ones where you do regret daring to climb out of your nice, soft, isolated cocoon of warmth five minutes after you decide to get out of bed? Or even the ones where you get up and land flat on your face and begin to question your life choices the instant you wake up?

 

Yeah, it’s one of those days. Unfortunately for me, I’m still trapped under a pile of blankets on the floor because apparently _someone_ thought it was a good idea to let the dog into our bedroom. Never mind that I didn’t even know we _had_ a dog until three minutes ago, but when you’ve been dealing with four angels with power fetishes and three people (yeah, that includes me; shut up) who like to indulge said angels in said fetishes for as long as I have, you learn to ‘roll with it.’

 

“Michael! Michael you giant bag of dicks-” Yeah, maybe I should be nicer to him, but he usually understands. And, well, when he doesn’t, cuddles are like archangel tear repellents. “Get over here and get rid of this mutt!”

 

Of course, my night in shining armor doesn’t show (he usually doesn’t when I get this pissy, but it can’t be related, right?) and I’m left to untangle myself from the blankets and the dog – which has magically become two dogs, great – alone.

 

Once the blankets are off of me and back on the bed and the dogs have been banished to the corner (they’re not there anymore, but I did succeed in banishing them for about three seconds, which totally counts), I trudge over to the night table and open my phone.

 

I dial Michael’s number, but he doesn’t pick up. I consider leaving a message, then decide against it, then change my mind and call again, only to find that there’s a message waiting for me.

 

“Hey, Adam Bear! It’s Mikey, and today you’re going to learn a lesson-” because God forbid I could get stuck with a normal angel-boyfriend-husband-mate like Castiel or that other angel with the weird clothes “-about friendship and love and brotherhood and magic and ponies!”

 

I’m really going to have to stop letting him watch My Little Pony, but for now, I need to decide what to do with my day so I can avoid whatever ‘lesson’ it is Michael wants me to learn. Maybe I can just go back to bed and- Nope, the bed is gone. Great.

 

***

 

In the end, I decided to stop narrating for a while (Yes, I feel the need to narrate everything that happens in my life. No, it’s not weird.) and make breakfast.

 

Which was a mistake, of course, because after burning eggs, frozen waffles, and prepackaged muffins – I’m not really sure how the last one is even possible – and ruining two cups of coffee, first by adding salt instead of sugar and then because the coffee machine decided to dump three spoonfuls of coffee grounds in my cup instead of an actual drinkable caffeinated beverage, I quickly began to realize that there was no way out of learning this particular lesson.

 

Which leaves me where I am now, which is sitting at the table pointedly ignoring Sam and Dean and trying to think of ways to plot my revenge on Michael.

 

Then the scent of beautiful, rich, hot coffee fills the room – oh, and it’s one of Gabriel’s too, which means that it’s good and strong because no one else in this stupid house has any sense of taste (Dean takes his acceptably strong but black and sugarless and Sam takes his nice and sweet and creamy but weaker than a Chihuahua’s left toe), but he never lets anyone but Sam and Luce touch it so I’m screwed.

 

The scent comes closer and I let out a manly whimper. Damn, I _really_ need coffee.

 

“Adam?” Sam asks gently. I consider telling him to fuck off, but then I remember how hard I’ve been trying to get him and Dean to accept me as their brother rather than as ‘John Winchester’s unwanted, forgotten, and useless son’ so I crack open one eye.

 

“What?” I ask grumpily.

 

“I made you coffee,” Sam offers.

 

“What’s in it?” I ask suspiciously.

 

“Three creams, two sugars? One of those Colombian blends with the fancy names?”

 

I grin. I know it’s silly, but those fancy names _really_ do make a difference. “Thanks, Sam.”

 

“Dean is making you pancakes. Don’t tell him I said this, but he’s actually a great cook.”

 

“I’m right behind you, Sammy,” Dean reminds him. “I hope you like you pancakes with bananas, ‘cause that’s what I’m making.”

 

“How did you know banana pancakes were my favorite?” I ask.

 

“It’s our job to know,” Dean responds, putting his hands on his hips and pouting like a disgruntled housewife. “You’re our baby brother and we love you.”

 

“You love me?” _That’s news to me,_ I think.

 

“We loved you from the moment we met you. You’re our lil’ bro,” Sam explains.

 

Maybe I’ll spend the day with my brothers, I decide. After all, they’re notoriously bad at ‘learning lessons,’ and Mike doesn’t have Gabriel’s patience, so maybe if I stick by them I can avoid learning mine. It doesn’t hurt that they just admitted to loving me. “Can I spend the day with you?”

 

Sam doesn’t look too enthusiastic about the idea, but I’ve seen that look of his before on Mike whenever he’s trying hard _not_ to be excited about something. “Of course,” he says.

 

“Fine by me,” Dean adds.

 

And that’s when my phone decides to ring, because it actively seeks out moments to destroy. It’s Michael, too, which just figures. “Where were you?” I growl. “And what do you have against answering your phone?”

 

I can totally hear Michael pouting on the other end even before he speaks. “You called me a bad word.”

 

I melt, because, fuck yeah, I’m whipped. “I’m sorry, baby. You know I didn’t mean it. Let me make it up to you. How about dinner tonight?” Yeah, I’m also sort of a player and a bit of an archangel’s man, if you know what I mean.

 

“Wouldn’t we be having dinner tonight together anyway?” Michael asks, suspicion coloring every syllable. “Anyway, I accept your apology, but that’s not why I called. Have you learned your lesson yet?”

 

I frown. “No....” What kind of lesson is there to be found in ruined coffee and burnt muffins and... Brotherly love.

 

 

Unfortunately, the exact same moment I figure out the deeper meaning of this terrible, horrible, no-good morning, Michael decides to press some sort of cosmic restart button and I find myself face down on the floor beneath a pile of blankets and dogs – three this time, because why the hell not? – _again_.

 

Yeah, it’s one of those days.


End file.
